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My hometown was torn apart over a hot dog cart's right to operate on Main St. after the bars closed. It's the best place to drunkenly stuff your face since La Bamba's "Burritos as Big as Your Head" moved out of stumbling distance and into driving territory. People kept getting into fights next to the cart when drunks would try to skip the line, so the police shutdown the cart and made the vendor leave. Capitalists came to his rescue and the controversy spilled into the "It's Your Call!" section of the newspaper where illiterate citizens can effectively have their voicemails transcribed into the newspaper. After some headache, the hot dog man was reinstated to his spot on Main St. for a couple weeks. Then some industrious reporter found out that he didn't even have a license to operate a business. Oddly enough, the exact same thing happened several years earlier a town over, except the guy was selling fireworks he trucked up from Tennessee. No one ever bothered to check if he'd had a license until they'd gone through ages of arguments about people blowing fingers off. Sometimes it's the most obvious questions we forget to ask.